


Christmas with Rose Weasley

by enchantedteapot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Humor, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, One Shot, Ravenclaw Scorpius Malfoy, Romance, Slytherin Rose Weasley, Snogging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-20 11:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22016581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchantedteapot/pseuds/enchantedteapot
Summary: Scorpius grinned over his shoulder at Albus and raced up the staircase, one hastily packed rucksack clutched in his arms and a festive spring in his step. Christmas at Grimmauld Place – now this was going to be brilliant!
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 99





	Christmas with Rose Weasley

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Happy Holidays, everyone! I recently found an old cache of half-written one shots and decided to finish this one in time for a festive treat. Please excuse any and all errors, this is un-beta'd and finished in a bit of a rush. It's full of fluff and cliches and whatever else my brain was conjuring up back in 2014. But it is Christmas, so I'm hoping you'll let me off.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply.

"My rooms on the third floor, fifth door on the left! Dump your bags anywhere, Gran says dinner's up!"

Scorpius grinned over his shoulder at Albus and raced up the staircase, one hastily packed rucksack clutched in his arms and a festive spring in his step. Christmas at Grimmauld Place – now _this_ was going to be brilliant!

And to think, only a mere twelve hours ago he'd been sat in their shared dorm room, gloomily anticipating the annual two-week winter holiday – typically spent, in Scorpius' case, dodging weighted chats about life after graduation from his dad and listening to his mum and the house elves animatedly discuss seasonal table decorations. And then, like a feathery Christmas miracle, his father's owl had delivered the good news: that his parents had decided to forego the festivities this year in favour of spending the month in Morocco with Scorpius' Aunt Daphne and her husband.

Scorpius could not have been more thrilled, if a little confused at his parents' decision. It was a well-known fact that his father couldn't spend more than two minutes in the sun without incurring third degree burns, not to mention both his parents' general distaste of Uncle Seamus and his 'inappropriate' (though unarguably hilarious) jokes. Not that he was about to try and talk them out of it, mind.

For not only did this change of events mean _not_ having to spend a draughty fortnight back at the Manor, it also meant that he could finally take up his best friend and roommate: Albus Potter's annual offer of spending the holidays with his eccentric and somewhat extended family. A prospect that filled Scorpius with so much glee he hadn't been able to stop grinning all day, and hadn't even complained when Albus spent the whole of the train ride to London snogging his girlfriend right across from him.

And so here he was, special guest extraordinaire, darting his way through the melee of red-headed cousins and uncles and aunts, yelling 'hullos' to Fred and James, and almost tripping over poor little Lucy Weasley as he sprinted up the three – or was that four? – sets of stairs and slung his bag through the fifth open door on the left.

He was halfway back to the kitchen (no stranger to Molly Weasley's infamously delicious casseroles), when he realised something was wrong. Quickly re-tracing his steps and peeking inside the darkened room where he'd just unceremoniously chucked his over-stuffed school-bag, his suspicions were immediately confirmed: this couldn't possibly be Albus Potter's bedroom. For a start, it didn't smell like something had crawled under the bed and died a very long time ago. There were no odd socks or dirty boxers littering the floor, not even a muddy shin guard poking out from beneath the wardrobe – all clad-iron indicators that Albus hadn't been within five miles of the place.

With a frown he glanced up at the walls and almost did a rather comical double take. They were green; a deep, rich, emerald green with a silver paint trim. His wide eyes finally took in the Slytherin house banner pinned up above the bed alongside the school Quidditch jersey with its trademark number four printed on the back, and he felt his festive heart leap right into his mouth. Because all of this could really only mean one thing: that he was standing on the threshold of Miss Rose Weasley's bedroom.

Giving himself a long moment to process this revelation – whilst trying very hard not to breathe in the deliciously perfumed air – Scorpius battled internally with himself. Obviously, he should leave… Obviously. This wasn't the right room, after all, and what's more – it was _hers_. Another little thrill crept down Scorpius' spine. Merlin, half the lads at school would _A_ _vada_ him for a shot at trading places right now.

Rose Weasley had quite the name for herself back at Hogwarts – and not just for her daring stunts on the Quidditch pitch. As the years rolled by and puberty dragged them all (kicking and screaming) into young adulthood, Rose only seemed to gain more attention. Last year alone, Scorpius was sure she'd left with more suitors than he had O.W.L.'s, and he had taken Extendeds in at least four different subjects. Of course, Scorpius would never have been amongst those foolish enough to consider trying out for her affections. He'd spent enough time in her general vicinity, courtesy of his friendship with Al, to know that she wasn't interested in silly sixth year boys such as the likes of him. Wasting time on schoolboy crushes wasn't part of her ten-point plan to world domination. Plus, there was also his total and all-consuming cowardice around members of the opposite sex to consider.

Still, that didn't stop him getting flustered and knocking over his ink-well if she joined them to study or dripping pumpkin juice down his robes if she came into the Great Hall at the wrong moment. Both of these quite involuntary acts earning him a soft knock in the ribs from Al for getting 'mooney-eyed' over his cousin.

And now here he was, alone in her bedroom… her private space… her sanctuary.

Scorpius cringed. The realisation of quite how creepy this could make him seem in the wrong light quickly disintegrating his previous intrigue. He should just grab his rucksack, back away slowly and head down to the kitchen where he could carry on being a respectable – and totally not weird – holiday house guest.

Feet scrambling into action, he snatched up his bag, hiking the strap over his shoulder and pulling at a piece of stray fabric that had snagged on the zip – just as somebody walked in behind him and flicked on the light.

If Rose had been at all startled by the presence of her classmate standing in the middle of her bedroom in the dark, she didn't let on. As Scorpius stared at her, aghast, she raised one eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest, casually taking in the scene in front of her. Scorpius followed her cool gaze and felt his cheeks redden by about a thousand degrees.

"Not really your colour I'd have thought, Malfoy," Rose quipped, nodding at the lacey lilac bra held aloft in his grasp, and holding back the smirk that threatened at the corner of her mouth.

"I'm sorry -, I didn't -," he spluttered, clinging to his rucksack as his palm became instantly sweaty. "Meant to find Al's room, and then -, …accidentally, _really_ didn't mean -,"

Rose nodded slowly, her amusement evident, which only served to make him feel like even more of a pervert. And _Salazar's balls_ – why was he still waving her bra in the air? He dropped it suddenly as if the delicate lace had scolded him. Rose gave a slight frown at this but stooped to pick it up, folding and replacing it neatly in her top drawer. Scorpius caught a glimpse of a whole assortment of prettily coloured, lacey things and swallowed thickly, averting his eyes to the ceiling.

"Well, I suppose that will teach me to tidy up after myself. Congratulations, Malfoy. You've succeeded in one evening where my own mother has failed these last sixteen years. I'm sure she'll be thrilled."

Scorpius' eyes grew wide, the prospect of Mrs Granger-Weasley being informed of his snooping around her only daughter's bedroom filling him with an abject terror. He'd be out on his ear before they'd even got to Molly Weasley's famous Christmas pudding.

Rose caught his expression and laughed. "Relax, Scorpius, I'm not going to tell her. It was an honest mistake, I'm sure." She cocked an eyebrow at him and he nodded quickly in confirmation, stuttering out another awkward apology which she waved off. "Besides," she added, merrily, "with a brother like Hugo, I'm no stranger to having someone rifling through my things."

"I wasn't _rifling_ -!" Scorpius started, only to grimace as she laughed at him again. He was starting to get the feeling that she was rather enjoying watching him squirm.

Rose leant back against her dresser, appraising him again as he stood awkwardly, shifting his weight beneath his heavy bag. "Al told me he'd invited you to stay for the holidays. I thought you already had other plans?"

"I did - I mean, just going home to mum and dad, like always," he shrugged, still feeling immensely uncomfortable.

"So, what happened?" she cocked her head. "House elves go on strike?"

Scorpius snorted. "Last minute invite out to Morocco. Guess they needed a suntan more than my company for a fortnight."

Rose laughed, and for the first time it was _with_ him rather than at him. "Well, their loss is our gain. Come on, I'll show you to Al's room."

Scorpius followed her out of the bedroom, his face flushing again for an entirely different reason. They plodded into the hallway and Scorpius could easily see how he'd ended up in the wrong room in the first place. The corridors seemed endless, with twists and turns and enough doors leading off to Merlin-knew-where that he felt disorientated just walking in a straight line. Rose walked a few steps ahead of him and Scorpius was given the first chance to actually look at her without being scrutinised himself.

She had her hair in some sort of loose knot, half of which had already fallen out, sending copper swathes down the back of her neck. If he wasn't mistaken, it was being held in place by her wand which seemed rather unnecessarily hazardous. He didn't suppose Rose Weasley was the sort of girl who took personal safety too seriously, though– he'd seen her do enough last second pull-ups from a Wronksi Feint to know that. She must have changed into her muggle clothes on the train, he noticed, and Scorpius found himself a sudden admirer of her denim jeans, in particular the way they shaped her arse as she walked.

Scorpius cleared his throat and searched for a quick distraction. "Why doyou have your own room here, by the way? I thought this was Al's family's house?"

"It is," Rose conceded, glancing back over her shoulder. "Well, sort of. Uncle Harry owns it but he doesn't really like spending time here. It's the only place big enough for the whole family though, so we use it for holidays, big get-togethers, that sort of thing. Last summer I had an internship at Gringotts and Uncle Harry let me have a room here so I wouldn't have to floo across from home every day."

"I didn't know you interned there," Scorpius frowned.

Rose stopped suddenly and pushed open one of the countless doors with a laugh. "I don't think you ever asked. It was a last minute thing anyway, I think mum wanted me out from under her feet. Al's room is just in here."

Scorpius blinked at her – he didn't know he was _allowed_ to ask; this was already turning out to be the longest conversation they'd ever had – but shook off the thought and stepped over the threshold. He knew instantly that he was in the right place. There was a scent in the air reminiscent of a long-forgotten bucket of flobberworms and a poster on the wall of Katie Bell, the Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados, charmed to make it look as if she were blowing kisses straight at him.

Scorpius dumped his bag and glanced at Rose who was eyeing Katie disdainfully. "It's just, I'd have thought Al might've said, I was there last Summer too… interning at Gringotts, I mean."

"Oh," Rose raised her eyebrows. "What department?"

"Er, Accounts. You?"

"Curse breaking. Guess we must have just missed each other," she smiled, kindly. They both knew those two jobs were worlds apart. "I'll see you downstairs," she added, heading back out into the hallway and leaving him to unpack.

Scorpius almost had to laugh. Well, that basically summed it all up, didn't it? He'd spent four long weeks of last summer agonising over spreadsheets and totting up balance books, whilst Rose had been out on daring salvage missions and bringing back hordes of treasure. No wonder she hadn't noticed him. She might as well have been on another continent. He supposed she was, half the time.

His somewhat poetic Ravenclaw brain was already running away with this new metaphor for his and Rose's non-existent relationship and so, with a sigh, he delved into his over-stuffed school bag, pulling out the odd assortment of shoes and clothes he'd managed to gather up in time for the train home. This was going to be an interesting few days, he thought, if he survived it intact.

**O**

Dinner was a predictably raucous affair. There hadn't been quite enough roast potatoes to go around and so things had kicked off with a game of who could be the first to hit Uncle Percy with a Brussel sprout. Once Rose's dad had been victorious – and helped himself to the last potato – everyone seemed to break off into their own conversations. Scorpius marvelled at the sheer noise of it all. His family dinners, though not exactly silent affairs, involved a polite level of amiable conversation, possibly with a cello accompaniment if the house eves were feeling musical that day. This, in contrast, was total chaos and he loved it.

He was nestled snugly at the not-quite-big-enough kitchen table, wedged between Al and his cousin Fred, and currently involved in a heated debate as to which of their professors would most likely win in a duel. (Headmistress McGonagall was currently winning, naturally.) Across the table, where his gaze kept absentmindedly drifting, sat Rose. She and Roxanne were laughing and making fun of Teddy Lupin, whose hair kept changing colour every time Victoire smiled at him from further down the bench. Scorpius could only empathise with the poor bloke.

That night, lying on the creaky pull-out bed as Al snored his head off a few feet away, Scorpius couldn't help but run his brief encounter with Rose over in his mind. She hadn't so much as even glanced his way during dinner and, honestly, he didn't know whether to feel pleased or disappointed. At least that meant she probably wasn't telling everyone what a ginormous weirdo he was, creeping around their family home.

He flopped over and found himself staring up at Katie Bell who didn't miss the opportunity to send him a seductive wink. How Al had managed to smuggle that poster in under his dad's watchful eye, Scorpius couldn't even imagine. The thought fleetingly crossed his mind that she'd look a lot prettier with auburn hair and maybe a Number 4 Slytherin jersey on.

He mashed his face back into his lumpy pillow with a groan.

**O**

Scorpius didn't see Rose at all the next day, on Christmas eve. She and Lily had left early that morning with both their mums to get some final Christmas presents and didn't return till after dark. He'd been pleasantly occupied himself by a scratch Quidditch match in the snowy park across from the house – masterfully hidden by some disillushionment charms courtesy of their referee, Al's dad. Although Scorpius had never been much to watch on a broom (much to his own father's poorly hidden disappointment), he'd actually made a half-decent Keeper once he'd planted himself squarely in front of the make-shift hoops and tried not to dodge out of the way of oncoming shots.

Three and half hours later – and, in Scorpius' case, more than a few quaffles to the head – the group traipsed back inside, cold and exhausted but all rosy-cheeked and happy. After another hefty home-cooked feast, everyone slumped their way into the living room: Fred and Hugo setting up a game of Wizard's Chess by the fire, Scorpius and Al each with a book in hand and Al's Uncle George collapsing on the sofa and letting out some of the loudest snores Scorpius had ever heard. It was the perfect wintry day and try as he might to keep his focus on the scintillating chapter in his book ( _A Life on The Prowl: An Autobiography by Mrs Norris_ ), he was warm and full and content, and it was more than he could do to keep his eyelids from drooping…

Scorpius was awoken sharply by a loud crash and a muffled yelp that cut through the silence in the middle of the night. He sat up, blinking, and struggled to orientate himself – the room was dark and empty, his book had long since slipped to the floor and someone had draped the couch throw over him like an itchy, tartan blanket.

Brushing the mussed hair back from his forehead, he squinted through the dim light to the pile of limbs and cushions now giggling softly to itself on the floor. "Rose?" he cleared his throat, it sounded like he was trying to cough up a toad.

"Hmm?" A smiling, bleary-eyed and auburn head poked itself up from the ground. Scorpius took in the scattered Wizard's Chess pieces around her and the faint smell of firewhiskey that had blown in with her. "Sorry!" she tried to whisper in a way that Scorpius was sure was actually louder than her normal speaking voice. "Didn't think anyone would still be up! Give me a hand, would you?" she finished with a hiccup.

Pushing the tartan blanket aside, he picked his way through the pile of upturned cushions and helped her haul herself up from the ground. Up close, he took in her lively blue eyes, her cold and rosy cheeks, and the scent of something in her hair – something woodsy and smoky and deliciously earthen.

He frowned. "You're just getting home?" It was more of a statement than a question. "The others have been back for hours."

Rose laughed and quirked an eyebrow, flopping down into the nearest armchair. "Sorry, didn't realise I had a curfew."

Scorpius felt the blush that surged to the tips of his ears. "I wasn't -, I mean… it's just really late," he muttered, lamely, glancing up at the clock above the fireplace as if to reassure himself of the fact. It was about to strike three.

Rose simply chuckled, brushing a hand through her auburn mane and pulling what looked like a leaf out from between her curls. "Your concern has been duly noted, Malfoy. What brings you down here in the dead of night, anyway? Not snooping again are we?"

"No!" he stuttered, cheeks deepening in colour, "I was sleeping! And I wasn't _snooping_ in the first place, I was lost and -."

Rose's happy laughter drowned out his protests and he frowned. She was messing with him. Again. She was a bit too good at that for his liking.

"Very funny," he ground out, crossing his arms and suddenly feeling rather awkward and exposed in the darkened living room. Rose had an uncanny ability to put people on edge when she wanted to, as he was starting to learn.

"Sorry," she grinned up at him, easily. "It's just, you're awfully easy to rile up. Are you always like this, so tightly wound?"

"You make me a bit jittery, that's all," he said quickly and without thinking, eyes widening a moment later as he realised his admission. He glanced quickly at Rose to see if she'd noticed, which of course she had – nothing seemed to get passed her, even after a few rounds of firewhiskey – and tried to ignore the odd look she was now giving him and her little half-smile.

"Hot chocolate!" Rose suddenly announced to the empty room, pushing herself up from the over-stuffed cushions. "Would you like some?"

"Pardon?" Scorpius blinked in confusion.

"Would- _you_ \- like- some- hot- chocolate?" she repeated herself, slowly. "Merlin, they really are letting anyone into Ravenclaw these days."

Scorpius could only frown and follow as she grinned again, beckoning him through the hallway and across into the kitchen. He watched as she lazily flicked her wand in the air, throwing the room into light with a well-practised _Lumos_ , and started banging around in various cupboards – finally emerging with a saucepan, milk jug and a bar of dark chocolate. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him warily eyeing the little ball of floating light she had just conjured.

"Relax, Scorpius. I turned seventeen in November. All legal and above board," she smiled, lighting the stove with a casual _Incendio_ as if to prove the point.

Scorpius watched on as she rummaged in another cupboard for sugar and two mugs, apparently unconcerned by the late (or should that be early?) hour, and making far more noise than he felt was entirely necessary given the number of sleeping relatives upstairs. In fact, he was amazed no one had come down already to see what all the fuss was about, although he was also secretly glad. Spending time alone with Rose did something not wholly unpleasant to his insides.

He allowed her to bang around on the kitchen worktop for another minute or so before stepping in, relieving her of the wooden spoon that she was now clanging against the saucepan as she stirred the milk to the boil.

"I'm perfectly capable-," she started to protest.

"At a lot of things, yes," he countered. "But being quiet is not one of them."

This seemed to amuse Rose who chuckled her agreement and relinquished command of her spoon. Instead, she hopped up onto the counter beside him, giving Scorpius another chance to admire her form-fitting jeans as she stretched out her long legs and leant back against the cupboards.

"You're good at that," she said, watching him crumble in the dark chocolate and stir counter-clockwise. "I wouldn't have had you down as someone who knew their way around a stove."

Scorpius shrugged. "It's no different to potions, really. Use the right ingredients, in the right quantities, at the right times. _Et voila,_ " he added, with an uncharacteristic flourish.

A wry smile appeared at the corner of Rose's mouth. "Let me guess: _y_ _ou're_ the one that keeps beating me in Sluggy's classes!"

Scorpius blushed crimson but didn't take his eyes off his saucepan. "I don't know what you mean."

"I knew it!" Rose's eyes flashed with mirth. "I've been coming second in that class since first year and no matter what I do, I _cannot_ get Slughorn to tell me who my competition is! He told me they wished to remain anonymous, which is completely ridiculous. For a while I even thought it might be Belby -,"

"Oh, please!" Scorpius rolled his eyes, reflexively. "That troll couldn't brew a pot of tea never mind a half decent potion."

Rose tipped her head back and laughed, freely. Scorpius eyed the creamy curve of her exposed neck and felt his face grow warm for a reason entirely unrelated to the steam rising from the saucepan in front of him.

"I knew it!" she said again, grinning triumphantly. "It is you! Why didn't Al ever tell me?"

Probably because he didn't know, Scorpius thought. He and his best friend weren't in the habit of comparing grades – so long as neither were struggling in a class, they actually very rarely talked about schoolwork at all. There were always far more interesting topics of conversation to be had.

He busied himself decanting the frothy hot chocolate into the two mugs, feeling Rose's curious stare boring into the back of his neck. "So, you're the one ruining my clean sweep," she muttered, that same little smile teasing at the edge of her mouth.

"Sorry," he grimaced, bashfully.

"You should be. If it weren't for you, I'd be in line to graduate top of all my classes next year."

She said it without any malice and without meaning to boast. In fact, if Scorpius didn't know any better, he thought she actually sounded rather impressed with him. Not that he imagined for one second that she'd find anything about him impressive, or that he had any idea what she was thinking from one moment to the next. It was all rather disorientating, to say the least.

"Wait," Rose stilled his arm as he was about to take a sip of his drink and produced a little glass shaker. "Needs cinnamon to offset the bitter chocolate," she muttered, apparently oblivious to the fact that she had temporarily paralysed Scorpius simply by placing her hand over his bare wrist.

She hopped down from the counter, heaping a healthy measure of cinnamon into her own drink, and moved over to sit at one end of the long kitchen table, patting the empty bench beside her when she realised Scorpius had yet to follow. Carefully – so as not to trip over his own feet and look like even more of a pillock – Scorpius carried his hot chocolate over to the table and slid onto the bench beside her.

They sat for a moment in an almost companionable silence. Scorpius eyed Rose over the rim of his mug as he took a sip of the piping hot drink. She'd been right – the burst of cinnamon complemented the after-bite of the dark chocolate, so that it was neither too sweet nor bitter. At home, his mother and the house elves favoured a blend of milk chocolate with vanilla extract that he had always found too sickly. He would have to remember this variation in the future.

Rose glanced his way and caught him staring at her. Scorpius blushed; Rose smiled. It made something fizz in his chest.

"So, now you know my secret, how about yours?" he said after a moment. It might have been the chocolate but he was starting to feel a little bolder, a little surer of himself around her.

Rose arched an eyebrow. "My secret? I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific, Malfoy. I try to be involved in at least five clandestine plots at any given time."

Scorpius snorted into his drink. He didn't doubt that in the slightest. "I meant, where were you earlier tonight?" He was assuming that _was_ a secret and that she'd snuck out – he didn't know many parents who'd happily let their child stay out until 3am, even if that child was the seemingly invincible Rose Weasley.

"Ah," Rose grinned and took another sip of her hot chocolate. "Now, if I told you that, Ling Davies would have my head…" she looked at him pointedly.

Scorpius frowned. What on Earth did Ling Davies have to do with anything? She was Ravenclaw prefect and Head Girl and Scorpius wasn't in the least ashamed to say that he found her mildly terrifying. The girl took no prisoners in her enforcement of school rules, not showing the least bit of favouritism to her own housemates, as so many of the other prefects were known to do. Scorpius hadn't minded in the least when Al had been chosen over him to join the ranks of the Prefect plod squad in fifth year – the less time he had to spend around Ling-the-Loathsome, the better. Besides, he'd always thought he'd have made a terrible prefect. He wasn't one to revel in authority, much preferring to spend his free time however he pleased rather than patrolling corridors or planning school events….

Rose was still watching him keenly as his eyebrows shot skyward. The knut had dropped. Out in the middle of the night on Christmas eve, leaves in her hair and the scent of smoke on her clothes, _Ling bloody Davies…_

"You were at the Seventh-Year Bonfire?" he gawped at her, incredulously.

Rose simply chuckled and pressed a finger against pouty lips. "Shh. That's a secret, remember?"

Scorpius could only stare at her in amazement. The seventh-year bonfire was one of the more recent school traditions, started – it was rumoured – by none other than Teddy Lupin as a way for he and his final-year classmates to blow off steam before the last push towards N.E.W.T. exams. It had been such a rip-roaring success that it had become tradition, the details passed down from one Head boy and girl to the next and continued year after year. It was now one of the worst kept secrets at Hogwarts, though no one was firm on the exact details. All Scorpius knew was that it occurred sometime during the Christmas break, was infamous for the amount of wild fun and mischief that those in attendance got up to and that, _most importantly,_ it was strictly seventh years only.

And yet here was Rose, a sixth-year student just like himself, who had apparently scored herself an invite.

Rose's laugh shook Scorpius from his bafflement. "You look as if I've just disproved Golpalott's Third Law! It's just a party, Scorpius -,"

"It's not just a party, it's the Seventh Year Bonfire… For Seventh Years!" he stared at her, stupidly.

Rose simply grinned. "Well, if we followed all of the rules all of the time, life would get rather dull, don't you think?"

Scorpius shook his head, "But how -, how did you even know where it was? They only give out the details to seventh -,"

"Seventh years, _yes_ Scorpius, I know," she rolled her eyes and chuckled into her hot chocolate. "Well, Ling Davies might be an absolute fascist when it comes to hallway patrol, but she employs a rather underwhelming amount of security in her own dorm room. It wasn't exactly hard to find her plans for the bonfire when they were sticking out of her Quidditch kit bag. Practically _begging_ to be found, if you ask me." She shook her head disapprovingly.

Scorpius could only stare at her. "Are you telling me you broke into Ravenclaw Tower and into the seventh-year girls' dormitory, just so you could steal Ling's party plans?"

"Hardly," Rose waved him off, dismissively. "First of all, there's no need to 'break into' Ravenclaw Tower. All you have to do is answer a silly little riddle and the door flies wide open for you." Scorpius frowned at her apparent dissatisfaction with his house's choice of entryway. Rose continued, unperturbed: "Secondly, I found the plans for the bonfire by accident. I mean if you will leave suspicious documents lying around in the open -," she shrugged cheerfully, a splash of her chocolate landing on the kitchen table, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Davies wanted me to find them."

Scorpius pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes, quickly deciding not to ask what on Earth she was doing there in the first place lest he find himself an accessory to some other illicit crime he'd rather not know about. "Well," he asked at last, "how was it? The bonfire?"

Rose beamed, animatedly. "It was brilliant! Honestly, Davies and Calthorpe might be the dullest pair of Heads that Hogwarts has ever seen, but somehow, they pulled off one of the greatest nights of my life! But don't worry, I already have a dozen ideas of how to make it even better for our go at it next year."

Scorpius couldn't help but mirror Rose's grin; of course she would have already started making plans for their turn. Even if she wasn't chosen as Head Girl – which everyone knew she was already a shoe-in for – no one threw an underground party like Rose Weasley. And more fool anyone who even thought about trying to best her at it.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, broken only by the slurping of their hot chocolates, with Scorpius glancing occasionally at Rose over the rim of his mug. He watched as her tongue darted out to lick a smudge of chocolate from her upper lip; his own mouth going dry despite his drink. She really was bloody gorgeous, he thought, aware that he was staring but somehow unable to stop himself. Her hair was still wild from the wind and the rain and fell over her shoulder like a fiery curtain. Her skin looked pale in the glow from her conjured light, with a bluish tinge that disguised her freckles. Scorpius bit the inside of his cheek as he remembered just how frequently those freckles made an appearance in his schoolboy imaginations. He managed to tear his gaze away just in time, as she turned to scrutinise him in turn.

"Can I tell you something?" Rose said suddenly, folding her hands beneath her chin and resting her elbows on the table top.

"Anything," Scorpius blurted a little too quickly. He blushed. "I mean…yes, of course," he hid his embarrassment behind a cough.

Rose gave him a small smile, "I've always been jealous of you and Al."

"What?" Scorpius blinked. "We're not -, … Al has a girlfriend…"

"Jealous of your _friendship_ , I mean," Rose laughed softly, picking up on his confusion. "You two spend so much time together, you're really close. It must be nice having that connection with someone."

Scorpius frowned – was she messing with him again? "Rose, you're the most popular witch in our school. You get invited to secret seventh year parties, for Helga's sake. Why would you be jealous of us?"

She grimaced, offering him a small shrug. "It's not the same. You two are _close_ , you actually care about each other. You're friends – _best_ friends even." She glanced at him as if for confirmation, he nodded slowly. "Well," she shrugged again, "I don't really have that."

"Rose, that's ridiculous. I have literally never seen you without five other people following at your heels. You have an army of friends!"

Rose snorted her amusement and shook her head. "Oh, I have an army alright, but I don't have any friends. Don't get me wrong, I never run out of people to hang out with, to party with, to plot with…" she wiggled her eyebrows mischievously, making Scorpius grin, "But they aren't _friends_ , not really. They don't care about me the way you and Al care about each other, I don't share my deepest, darkest thoughts with them. In fact, I'm fairly sure half of them would absolutely love to get me expelled so they never had to see me again."

Scorpius shifted uncomfortably on the bench, eyes never leaving the face of the girl sat next to him, the sad little downturn of her mouth. He was absolutely baffled – though he understood the words she was saying, he couldn't get his head around their meaning. The idea that Rose Weasley – the most insanely talented, charismatic and downright intimidating student in the entire school, not to mention the girl that sent his own head off in a tailspin – would have any reason to be jealous of _him_ , seemed beyond ridiculous.

What was also flummoxing him was why, in Merlin's name, she was choosing to share all of this with him – a boring Ravenclaw bookworm with a totally inconsequential social status, with whom she'd never shared more than a passing greeting (discounting their awkward meeting in her bedroom the previous night). He suspected it may have something to do with the free-flowing firewhiskey at the bonfire, but it still seemed unlikely that Rose, the walking headrush, would share her secrets with him, of all people. He found he very much liked the idea that she felt comfortable enough with him to open up like this.

"You know, jealousy is an ugly emotion," Scorpius offered, nudging her gently on the shoulder. Rose smiled up at him, wistfully. "And besides, who needs them. You have your cousins: Roxanne and Lily and Al -,"

"Family doesn't count," she cut in, sharply. Scorpius got the feeling she'd had this same argument in her head a thousand times already. "They have to like you, whether they want to or not."

"Well, that just isn't true," Scorpius reached over to her again, turning her to face him properly, searching out her avoidant gaze. "I happen to think my Aunt Daphne's twins are a pair of insufferable trolls."

She half-grinned at that and arched an eyebrow at him, "And how old are they, exactly?"

He grimaced, "About four and a half."

"All four and a half year olds are insufferable trolls!" she chuckled and rolled her eyes, half-heartedly.

"Okay, fine," he grinned, enjoying the bloom in his chest at the sound of her laughter, "Then what about me?"

Rose looked at him. "What about you?"

"Well, I'm not one of your 'army' of not-friends and I'm not related to you, as far as I know," Scorpius mentally thanked Merlin for that fact, "and I care about you."

Rose blinked at him and, yet again, Scorpius realised his mistake a moment too late. He froze where he sat; it was his turn, it seemed, to try to avoid _her_ gaze. He opened his mouth to correct himself but stuttered over his words. "What I mean is -, er… that is, what I meant to say -," he laughed, stiffly, and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks filling with colour. "Shit."

Rose was now watching him curiously, her lips pursed. It was a look that Scorpius had seen on her face a thousand times before: a look of unadulterated interest. He had never seen it quite so close up before, though, and certainly never directed at himself. It was incredibly unnerving, to tell the truth. "Do you care about me?" she asked finally.

Scorpius stared at the ceiling, at the now-cold drink in his hand, at his own feet – anywhere but at the girl in front of him. "S-sure, I mean, you're Al's cousin, my classmate… my biggest competition in Potion's," he offered her a weak grin.

Rose's eyes narrowed and Scorpius knew she wasn't buying it. "Right… of course," she tilted her head, thoughtfully.

Scorpius let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and looked away across the kitchen. He was a total idiot. Here he was, having the first proper conversation with the girl he'd fancied for the best part of five years, only to royally put his foot in it. Just in case Rose didn't already think he was a total nutter, creeping about her bedroom in the dark, now here he was practically making confessions of love to the girl.

He turned back to face her, preparing to brush the moment under the carpet with an offer to wash up their chocolate stained mugs, only to find her face was now a mere few millimetres from his own. He flinched - she was suddenly so close he could once again make out her freckles in the pale light, could feel the warmth radiating from her, her breath tickling his cheek. He reckoned he could have counted each one of her eyelashes, if he hadn't been otherwise engaged by the way her lips were inching closer to his with each passing nanosecond.

"Rose?" was all he managed before her hands, warmed from her mug, came up to clasp each side of his face. Scorpius felt the cold tip of her nose brush against his, watched as she lightly wet her lips with a quick sweep of her pink tongue, and then heard his ears start to ring as she brought her mouth to his.

She was hesitant at first, lips pressing almost feather-light, seemingly unsure of herself. Though not exactly experienced in such matters himself, Scorpius felt a twinge in his chest and a sudden need to reassure her. He jerked his frozen arms awake, one hand coming up to tangle in her curls, the other clutching at her waist. Encouraged, Rose parted her lips, seeking out Scorpius' tongue with her own and releasing a breathy sigh of contentment when he responded with fervour.

Scorpius was entirely lost in her. Her lips really were as full as he'd always imagined. She tasted of chocolate laced with cinnamon, smelled of the smoky embers of a raging bonfire with undertones of lilac. Feeling emboldened, he tugged gently at her jumper, urging her closer until she was practically climbing into his lap. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her, feeling the fullness of her against him, noticing her heartbeat racing only a fraction quicker than his own.

 _Gods,_ he could do this all night, he thought, feeling her tongue sliding lazily, deliciously, against his own. He didn't really understand why this was happening, which alternate universe he had stumbled into, but he certainly wasn't about to ask her to stop.

And then, just as he was working up the courage to slide a hand down to that jean-clad bum he had rather a thing for, Rose's lips disappeared from his own.

It took a few slow seconds and a rather shaky breath for Scorpius to remember to open his eyes. Rose had shifted back on the bench, one of his hands still attached to her jumper, and was watching him with those curious blue eyes. He was pleased to see how fast her own breathing was coming, and even more pleased when he glanced down to her lips, finding them swollen and dark red and thoroughly well kissed.

 _He_ had done that, came a proud (if somewhat incredulous) little voice from some far away corner of his mind.

He swallowed thickly, "Rose -," he started, surprised at the low and gravelly tone of his own voice, but she cut him off with a quick shake of her head. Scorpius felt his gut clench – _shit_ , she couldn't be regretting it already, could she? – but relaxed when he watched those well-kissed lips split into a heart-stopping smile.

"Merry Christmas, Scorpius," she muttered, gazing at him softly for a few moments more, before lifting herself from the bench and heading for the stairwell without another word. Scorpius watched her go, heart still hammering in his chest, his breathing still coming in uncoordinated gasps and grinned in spite of himself.

A very Merry Christmas indeed, he thought.

**O**

It was almost a full two weeks later, three days after the hordes had returned to Hogwarts for the new term – all a little rounder and happier than before – that Scorpius received a belated Christmas present.

He stared at the carefully wrapped package that the anonymous postal owl had just dropped in his porridge, peering up and down the Ravenclaw table, but seeing no sign of Al or their other dormmates to ask for an explanation. He quickly checked the tag and felt his pulse stutter at the name written there in elegant cursive. He shot a startled glance towards the Slytherins but couldn't spot the tell-tale mass of red curls that normally signified whether Rose had woken up in time for breakfast.

Fingers already on the wrapping paper, he paused, suddenly unsure of himself. He hadn't even seen Rose since that night, never mind spoken to her or… anything else involving lips and tongues. By the time he'd woken up on Christmas morning – courtesy of a pillow to the face from Al – Rose and the rest of the Granger-Weasley's had already left Grimmauld Place for sleepy Hampstead. Al had shrugged, unconcernedly, when Scorpius had (rather unsubtly) demanded to know where they had gone, telling him: "It's their turn with the muggle side this year. It's not so bad there though, Rose's grandad has this really cool car and -,"

Scorpius couldn't remember now what made Rose's muggle grandfather's car so appealing. In fact, he didn't remember much of the rest of their Christmas holiday at all, so preoccupied as he was with trying to work out what he was supposed to do about Rose and their kiss. In all honesty, he had begun to question whether it had actually even happened in the first place – maybe he really had taken one too many quaffles to the head that day in the park, and he had, in fact, been suffering from a rather serious concussion. In many ways, that seemed to him a more likely explanation of events than trying to imagine that Rose Weasley had really and truly been snogging him in her Uncle's kitchen on Christmas Eve.

With a shake of his head, Scorpius fixed his attention on the package before him, glancing again at the neatly written tag: _Merry Christmas, Malfoy. Rose x_

Fingers practically numb with anticipation, he tore of the layers of paper, eyes widening at the contents of his present: one bar of Honeydukes finest dark chocolate, two sticks of cinnamon and a teaspoon (clearly knicked from the school kitchens). All the ingredients for a perfect hot chocolate.

**O**

Scorpius couldn't keep the grin off his face all day. Or the next day, or the next, or the one after that. It faltered, only slightly, about four days later, when he spotted Rose in a quiet corner of the library – lost in her schoolwork and _finally_ alone.

"Merry Christmas, Rose," he grinned, nervously, causing her to look up from her Charms essay with a start. Quickly, he pulled a hastily wrapped parcel of his own from his school bag and thrust it towards her. He watched as she took it cautiously, shooting him a bemused smile as she peeled back the paper –

' _Remedial Potions; Volume I'_

Rose stared down at the book in her hands, blinked once, twice, and almost gave Scorpius a heart attack with her silence, before she tipped back her head and started howling with laughter.

That was the first time Scorpius had ever been thrown out of the library, but he didn't mind all that much. Especially when Rose suggested he provide her with some private potions tutorage in a cosy, nearby broom closet, instead.

**Author's Note:**

> The End. Merry Christmas, everyone. Hope you've had a lovely festive period, whatever and however you celebrate! And a Happy New Year!


End file.
